


War, Hell, and Coloring

by Maerit



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, And humans are pretty much outlawed, Enter: Toriel, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, GOAT MOM IS HERE BIITCHEESSS, Graphic Violence, I feel bad and i'm the one writing this, I'm writing these while listening to see if my mom is going to come into my room and OOF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Is OOF an acceptable tag, Is going to a strangers house worth pie, Monsters won the war, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Frisk, Slow Burn, Tags Are Hard, Though it SHOULD mainly be referenced/flashbacks, but not like that, hell if i know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-08-20 12:18:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maerit/pseuds/Maerit
Summary: Long ago, two races ruled over the Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS.One day, war broke out between the two races.After a long battle, the MONSTERS were victorious.And HUMANS were driven into hiding....After living on the streets, Frisk, a young human in a monstrous world, meets a monster that offers to change their life.But can they trust her?





	1. Running Sucks (and other fun activities)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, umm, I just wanted to say THANK YOU SO MUCH for checking this out. This is my first AO3 fic, and i'm really exited to show you guys this story and more. I know it's probably not the best thing out there, but I really, really hope you like it.  
> And, of course, this is entire fic is based off Undertale by Toby Fox, my favorite Franchise to this date.  
> Enjoy!

Breathing, as a natural human function, was required by each and every Homo Sapien Sapien that existed. Frisk knew this for a fact, but in much simpler terms. What they did not know was if monsters had the same need for oxygen as their more fleshy counterparts.  
Frisk really, really hoped so.  
Mostly because judging by the burning sensation consuming the bottom portion of their lungs, they couldn't run for much longer.  
Frisk could hear the blood in their ears, rushing in loud torrents that drowned out the loud sounds of city life. They could feel the impact of their feet on the pavement, skinning down the soles of their shoes on the hot blacktop with small claps. 

He was going to catch them!

“STOP!” yelled the monster chasing behind them. He was a plump, chubby cat monster. When Frisk first saw him, they thought he looked peaceful, even cuddly, like the stuffed animals they often stared at through store windows. But, that quickly changed when he began to race after them. Frisk could practically imagine his lumbering footsteps as he tore after them. 

“COME BACK!” 

 

They pushed past bystanders of all shapes and sizes, elbowing their way through the thick crowd. They needed to get somewhere safe. Somewhere the royal guard couldn't hear the commotion and snatch Frisk up from the streets.  
An alleyway. Frisk needed an alleyway.  
A gap in the buildings up ahead would do.  
They darted between two bustling restaurants, the aroma of fries and sweet cake melting into an oddly mouthwatering concoction. Warm light poured out of one of the restaurants, basking Frisk in luminescence that cast shadows in monstrous shapes upon their face. The sky blazed orange, fiery tendril grasping as they continued deeper into the alleyway, running towards the darkness.  
Frisk slowed down, panting. They paused, waiting to hear the sound of shouting echoing behind them, or the sounds of angry shoes on pavement.  
But nobody came.  
They were very grateful about that.  
They slumped against the wall, safely tucked away from view by a rusty green dumpster that smelled of old bread and cloying icing. Relief soaked through their bones as their shoulders dropped.  
That. was. Close.  
They pulled a white paper package out of their pocket, carefully peeling away the sheets to reveal their prize.  
A smashed pastry sat in Frisk’s hands. Frisk remembered the sign at the shop had called it an… an… epair? Ecliem? Eclee? They thought Eclee sounded right. The chocolate covered bread has caused Frisk’s stomach to complain in want. They had licked their lips, and pressed their grubby hands onto the pristine glass case. It was no wonder that Frisk had decided to snatch it, stuffing it clumsy in their pocket when they believe no one was looking.  
But that wasn’t the case.  
Frisk looked around the alleyway. It was fairly secluded, and as they were near the back of it, they should not be noticed back here. Staying here for the night shouldn’t be too bad.  
But, first, they needed to check something. Stuffing the eclee into their pocket they crawled deeper into the alley, until they came across what they intended to find.  
A puddle laid in the ground, and Frisk leaned over it.  
Despite the darkness they could make out their face.  
Frisk’s hat covered their hair, and, in turn, their mask covered their countenance. Soft ears sprouted from the cap, fawn like in nature. The folds of the hat draped down and tucked themselves away into Frisk’s filthy sweater. They tilted their head, trying to find if anything was off. Their mask was simple, but, it worked. Tree bark, with straps tucked away under their hat . It covered the majority of their face, except for slits that made way for their eyes and mouth. Their hands itched to wipe the grime off their face, and they screwed up their face. Their entire head felt itchy! They ripped the hat and mask off their head, and frantically ran their fingers through the knotted mass of their hair. They tore the large, fur covered gloves off their hands, throwing them onto the ground. It’s not like they could get much dirtier, anyway. They scratched at their scalp, soothing where the cap had rubbed their skin raw. They sighed, relishing the feel of cool air brushing against their sweating palms. The boots were next. Frisk didn’t mind the boots as much. Warm and furry, claws were sown into the hide in order to further indulge their costume into realism. What animal hide were they even constructed of? In all honesty, they couldn’t even remember when their dad made them, much less what exactly they were made of. Frisk lifted the boots to their face, eyeing the stitches and the texture of the hair clinging to where their finger tips sat. It was brown, which didn’t do much in terms of narrowing the list down.  
Perhaps this was a mystery that would never be answered. 

They set the boot down, making sure it didn’t tip over into the puddle. They wrinkled their nose at the thought. They hated when their shoes got wet. Wrinkly toes felt uncomfortable, and, most of all, gross.

With their final ensemble removed, Frisk unwrapped the eclee once more. They couldn't wait any longer, with their belly reminding them that Frisk hadn’t eaten in… a long time at least.  
They shoved it into their mouth, icing smudging around their fingers and adding to the grime around their mouth in a spatter of chocolate.  
It. Tasted. So. Good.  
They munched down on the treat, shoving it into their mouth as fast as they could.  
It was over to soon.  
They licked their icing-colored fingers until there was no trace left of the baked good. It was honestly the best thing they had ever eaten. Well, that they remember, that is. They wracked their brain. Dad always used to tell them about the candy he had when he was Frisk's age. Suckers and chocolates and candy canes galore. What candies did he have when he was Frisk’s age? Frisk was ten, which left ten whole years for their dad to stuff himself with all sorts of sugary morsels. When was the last time Frisk had had a not-stolen sweet?  
They tilted their head to the side, biting the inside of their cheek. Was it at the red hotel with the big windows? A tall man had given them a mint on their pillow. They remembered that moment, and how he had patted their head and complemented their sweater. They liked him. He had a kind smile. Their dad had liked him, too. Him and the other refugees played cards in the basement of the hotel. Dad wouldn’t let them come, saying that they were talking about things they weren’t allowed to hear.

…

They missed their dad.  
The thought struck them like a knife to the chest, and left a slow moving ache in its wake spreading from their heart and spreading along their veins to…

...

No. No thinking about bad things. No thinking about things that made them cry. That's what Dad had told them. 

They tugged on their disguise, carefully tucking their gloves under their sleeves. They gingerly set themselves on their side, curling up into a little ball. Their cheek set itself on the ground, hard and unforgiving. They missed their bed. 

They gave themselves a mental shove for that. No more bad thoughts.

With that thought on their mind, they slowly drifted off to sleep.  
Only to wake up five minutes later in a cold sweat, whimpering out into the cold wind.  
This was going to a be long night.


	2. Bittersweet Memories and Butterscotch Houses

“Hey”  
“Hey!”  
“Wake up!” 

Something poked at Frisks side. They groaned, weakly swatting at momma’s hand. They shifted away from their mom, curling up on their side and hoping for the comforting oblivion of sleep to claim them once again. 

Just five more minutes, momma...

This time, Frisk found themselves being shaken, thick hands gently grabbing at their shoulders. 

Their eyes snapped open. 

Frisk gasped, eyes wide open.

They were in a circle of three monsters, all staring down at Frisk with hidden eyes. They wore armor, thick and silver, that covered every inch of skin except a thin “T” shape on their face. But, all of these things were in Frisks peripheral vision, being mostly ignored as their attention was fixated on the etching on their chest plate.   
It was the Delta Rune, skillfully carved into the metal with machine-like precision. 

Their mind was slow, dredging along through grogginess, but, the minute Frisk saw that symbol, their veins turned to ice, and they were drenched in a cold, slick sweat that seemed to suddenly appear onto Frisk’s skin. 

Oh no.

Their feet lurched out from underneath them, dragging them up and pushing them past the royal guardsmen. 

“HEY!”

Frisk powered down the street, their adrenaline pumping through their system like electricity.   
They messed up. They messed up. How had they known? Their disguise had never failed them before, why now? 

They suddenly swiveled , knifing their body onto the main street. It was fairly barren, with only a few meandering souls walking down the boulevard. Their breathing got faster, as they surveyed the scene of tight-knitted shops and sparse patronage.

They couldn’t blend in. They couldn't hide.   
What should they do? 

Shouting echoed behind Frisk, causing them to pick up a burst of speed with a wispy gasp. 

They were going to die. They were going to die. They were going die and no one would care and momma couldn’t save th-

Wumpf!

Frisks body hit a solid wall of purple fabric. All the oxygen in their lungs was knocked out of them, leaving Frisk gasping for air. Their mask was jarred, sliding roughly down their face to rest onto their neck. They fell down onto their backside with a resounding “Plop!”. Their tailbone ached painfully.  
They were shocked for a moment, ears ringing slightly.  
Were they dead yet?  
Frisk’s vision was attracted to the blurry, white blobs standing in front of them. They shook their head, their vision slowly, but surely, coming to focus, which caused the cream masses to become actual shapes. 

The first thing Frisk noticed was the pristine, white fur. It was fluffy, and looked really soft, like a rabbit’s pelt. They lined large… paws. Paws with sharp claws, that scratched at the pavement with a sound like someone's dying breath.

Their gaze traveled upwards slowly, their lungs constricting more the farther and farther up they looked. A rich, royal purple tunic with the delta rune dyed in light periwinkle. Huge, fur covered hands that would dwarf Frisk’s tiny ones three times over. Her nails were just as large as the ones on her feet, and sharp at the tips. White, puffy sleeves that covered her arms. Large, floppy ears. Fangs that trailed out her her mouth from under her lips. A nose and snout. Dark, maroon red eyes like dried blood under the blazing sun. 

She stared down at them, her eyes fixated on Frisk’s face. Frisk shivered under her inspecting gaze, as realization struck them with the electricity of lightning. 

Their mask was off.

They scrambled backward, yanking the mask back onto their visage. The woman reached out, and began to speak softly, her face molted with… some type of emotion, but Frisk was already on their feet and darting away. 

“THERE YOU ARE!” 

Hands grabbed Frisk from behind, wrapping around their shoulders. They had completely forgotten by the royal guardsmen. They began to struggle, earning them surprised yelps and grunts from the officers. They twisted in their grasp, elbowing backward frantically. They kicked their legs backwards, making contact with something, and the hands on their shoulders became stiffer, digging into their skin. They cried out, wrenching their vocal cords in a raw, painfully young plead. The air was charged with electricity, magic creating thick static in the air. It was here. It was happening. They didn’t want to die. Please, they didn’t want to die. Someone, anyone, Please, help me. Help me, help me help me HELP ME DADDY MOMMY SOMEONE PLEASE DON’T LET THEM TAKE ME-

The pressure on their arms released, and they stumbled forward running straight into another pair of hands. The goat woman. She pushed them behind her, out of view from the officers, keeping a gentle hand on their back. Frisk pulled their arms around their head, taking in deep breaths. Their tears soaked into the sleeves of their sweater, dripping from behind their mask and down their chin. They hadn’t even realized they were crying.   
Deep breaths, deep breaths…  
The world seemed to blend together, smudging the sound into sharp white noise and curling their surroundings into darkness as they squeezed their eyes shut.   
Just breath.  
The words that were being said eventually became distinguishable from the rest of the noises in the walking city streets.

“...Ma’m, we apologize for…”  
“...Well, you were just doing your job…”  
“...Is there anything we can…”  
“...No offense to you, officers, but your presence is upsetting my child.”  
“Oh, yes, of course.”

Frisk heard footsteps echoing off the concrete, and then the conversation from the policemen ceased to exist. Were they really gone?

“My child, are you alright” A voice said from above. Frisk cracked their eyes open, only to find the red eyes of the goat like-monster. She knelt down in front of them, her back hunched and head lowered in order to be at face level. It was almost like she was trying to appear smaller. 

Frisk took a step backward, but was stopped by a gentle tug on their gloves. They looked down, only to realize that the monster was clasping their hands in hers. They yanked their hands backward instinctively. She let them go instantly, her hands seeming to hover in front of her for a moment, before coming to rest in her lap.

What was happening?

“Child, are you hurt?”

Frisk was dragged back to reality by her voice. It was soft, but resonated as rich and kind. Ok. Okay, they could... they could work with this.   
...  
Hopefully.

“Child?” Her voice spoke once again. “Are you alright?” 

Fisk nodded vigorously, taking a step back. They lifted their hands, but then lowered them. Would she know sign-language? 

“Thank you.” They signed quickly. 

“It was no problem.” She replied, smiling, her fangs becoming much more prominent in the process. “Now, I think you should be in school, young one. Isn’t that right?” Frisk froze. School?   
Frisk hadn’t been to school in a long time. Since the war started when they were so young, they had only gone to school for a tiny bit of time. They liked it, the teachers gave them stickers and let them color. They remembered Momma telling them her memories about her school days. She wasn’t that old either, but she still had memories. Was school even going on now?   
The lady spoke up again, this time her head dipping down slightly and her eyes had a thin, sparkly sheen. “Those officers were clearly not to pleased with the fact you are ditching.”

Oh.   
…  
Oh.  
Realization struck Frisk like a bolt of lightning. They felt like smacking themselves and laughing maniacally at the same time. 

No one knew they were human.   
They thought they were skipping school.   
That certainly explained why they left Frisk be without so much as a magic attack. They must of been really shocked when Frisk started to shriek and scream bloody murder.   
The white monster began to speak once more.  
“Now, it is my responsibility as an adult to make sure you are safely delivered to your parents. “  
Frisk froze at the mention of parents. They didn’t like were this was going.  
“I do not have my cell phone on me, so, if it is alright with you, I would like you to come to my house so I can inform your parents.”  
Frisk's hair rose onto their ends, and their body tensed. They didn’t like this at all.  
“Of course, you don’t have to, and I could deliver you to the police station or directly to your parents or school instead if that is what you preferred.”  
Nuh-uh. They tensed themselves to run. Their muscles felt like they were like vibrating.  
“I have a pie in the oven if you would like some, and you are free to take a hot bath if you come along.” She finished with a patient look. “I don’t want your parents to get even angrier at you because of your condition.

They stopped.  
That kind of… changed things. They looked down at their grubby clothes, filthy with a sort of grime that rainwater couldn’t exactly wash out. Frisk hadn’t had a bath in well… forever. They shivered, thinking of the dirt finally shedding from their skin. Warm bubbles and fragrant soap and getting the muck from underneath their stubby nails. There was a small whimper in the base of their throat. It sounded so good. But they couldn’t. They couldn’t…

…

Could they?

No, no, that was stupid. That was a good way to get kidnapped. Killed and slaughtered and have horrible things happen to them. No one would notice if they were missing. They would die alone.   
But…  
Frisk really had nowhere else to go.   
They could, they could always run if things went south, couldn’t they? No, no, they wouldn't trust a monster. They just couldn't. Going with a monster was crazy! The moment she found out, she would attack them. She saw them without their mask. That was as risky as Frisk dared to be. 

…

But, if she never found out they were human…

They would they be safe?   
Dad always said that Monsters were always “nice” to other monsters. He said that pretending to be a monster would make sure they were safe. A monster would never hurt another monster, right? And pie. They could get food. Frisks stomach complained at the thought. Their mouth began to water,and they could imagine the delectable scent. Piping hot, sweet pie-  
...They would go with her.   
They nodded their head hesitantly, looking up through their lashes, and trying to ignore the growing knot in their stomach.   
The tall lady brightened up considerably, her eyes twinkling at them.   
“That sounds wonderful, little one.” She got off her knees, settling for towering over Frisk once again. Her face suddenly clouded with confusion.   
“Oh, I am afraid I forgot to ask your name.” She said, rubbing her neck sheepishly.   
“I’m F-R-I-S-K” They signed. They pointed at Toriel. “You?”   
“My name is Toriel.” She signed her name, letter-by-letter. They frowned. That name was familiar.   
“It is nice to meet you!” She offered a soft smile. Frisk offered a small one back, before realizing Toriel couldn’t see it anyway.   
“Now, we should probably get going.” Frisk managed another, shaky smile, this one more to soothe them self more than anything else. It was OK. Just be careful. Be a good kid, get the food, get the bath, and run away. Their nerves felt like shaky wires, with a thousand volts shooting through them.  
Should they go back? 

No. No, they were going to do this. They needed the food and they needed to be clean. Being clean would feel so great. And, uh, they would blend in better with monster kids. It was the best way!  
“Ok.” they signed.   
Toriel offered them a hand.  
Frisk stared down at it, bile rising up in their throat. They didn’t want to touch it. The soft, gray pads and the ovalesque nails stayed there, burning into their brain.   
They had to take it.   
They had to, otherwise they might look rude and she might not give them food and this whole thing would be pointless. They needed this. They gritted their teeth, and slowly lowered their hand into hers, squeezing their eyes shut.   
She gently look their diminutive hand in hers, surprisingly gentle. The hand was fuzzy, and actually pleasantly warm.   
Although that warmth didn’t stop a shiver from running down Frisks spine.   
“Right this way, little one!” Toriel led them forward. She took small steps so Frisk could keep up, every now and then looking back at them as if to check if they were still there.  
Her paw felt like was was burning on Frisk’s skin.  
They strolled down the avenue, Toriel gently humming a song as she walked. The city began to gradually wake up, the streets slowly dripping into the busy morning hours. Monsters made their way to work, carrying bags and cheerily greeting one another. A group of kids were playing in the streets. One of them, a small yellow dinosaur-thing, fell on their face, grinding to a halt on the pavement. Frisk winced. The little monster popped up again, a huge grin on their face, none the worse for wear.  
Lucky! It had scales to protect itself from the ground!  
Frisk was so distracted by this debacle, they didn’t even notice when Toriel pulled them to a stop. She squeezed their hand a little tighter.  
They stood in front of… a bus. It was the same rich shade as Toriel's robes, and the sides were plastered with posters with gaudy pictures of maniacally smiling figures.

“HUMANS ARE DANGEROUS: REPORT ANY SIGHTINGS TO THE ROYAL GUARD.”  
“DEMONS IN DISGUISE: DON'T TRUST THEM”  
“Humans only want LOVE, not love”

Toriel yanked their attention away from the side by briskly strolling towards the bus, taking Frisk with her.   
The first instinct Frisk had was to dig their heels into the ground and run in the opposite direction. Nuh uh. Buss’ meant long trips, and long trips meant going somewhere else far, far away. Buss’ meant lots of monsters in a small space with no escape except jumping out of a window (even if it was silly).   
Toriel seemed to have noticed their resistance, as she turned her head to look them in the eye.   
“Child, do not fret. I only live just off fringes of the city. I just don’t think you would like to walk to long.”   
Frisk let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding. A bus. ’course. It made sense. If they went too far, Frisk could run. Jump. Scream for help. It’s fine.  
Toriel led them up the steps, despite Frisks more than hesitant shuffling.   
“Tra la la. Bus fare, please. Tra la la.” A melodic voice sang. Toriel's body blocked them from view, but Frisk could infer that this was the bus driver.   
“Here you are. Thank you for driving!” Frisk heard gold clinking, and a velvety “Tra la la. You’re welcome.” In response.   
The goat lady led them forward, and Frisk finally caught a glimpse of the driver. A dark purple cloak swathed them, with a dark hood staring directly at them. It didn’t look like it had any arms nor legs, which was odd enough since it was expected to drive the bus. The bus was sparse, with a few monsters scattered here and there. Toriel led them down the aisle, and to the middle of the available accommodations. They both sat down in cushioned, blue seats, somewhere in the middle section. Frisk’s chair pretty much swallowed them whole, making their form minuscule in comparison, while Toriel seemed to fit into hers like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle. They tucked themselves back into the seat, scrunching their shoulders into themselves. The seats of the bus, Frisk observed, were different sizes, the smallest variety being about the size of Frisks hand, while the biggest one spanned the entire back of the bus. It made sense, Frisk supposed, as different types of monsters were different sizes. They just hoped that no really big monsters decided to take a bus ride. Or, any other monsters, for that fact.   
Toriel was rummaging through her purse, and Frisk couldn’t help but peek at it’s contents.   
A wallet, keys, a cellphone, loose change, a comb, a small package of tissues and…  
“Oh! There it is!”   
Toriel pulled out a small spiral bound notebook. It was a soft, silky blue with a purple pen hooked into the ring. She opened it to a dog-eared page half filled with neat, pleasantly curved words. Frisk, through the slits of their wooden mask, plucked a random sentence off the page.  
“What did the bakers family throw for his birthday?”  
“A su-pies party!”   
Frisk just barely stopped their lips from twitching into a smile.Curiosity piqued, they moved down the paper.  
“What did one penguin say to another in an argument?  
“Don’t give me the cold shoulder!”   
They couldn’t help it this time. A small grin worked its way onto their face, lighting up their childish face. They skipped down to the next line quickly.  
“What is a grizzlies favorite way to comfort someone?”  
“Giving them a bearhug!”  
A giggle spasmed in Frisks chest, bubbling up through their lips, and Toriel tilted her head towards them.   
They immediately tried to bite into the soft flesh of their tongue, but, after a moment, just ground their teeth into each other with an iron tension.  
“Do you like my jokes?” Toriel chirped, her eyes twinkling. She didn’t look… mad. Actually, she looked pleased. They let their jaw slacken.  
Frisk gave a small nod. “Sorry.” They signed.   
“There is no need to be sorry, child! Just maybe don’t look at someone's private things next time, alright?” Frisk nodded vigorously, looking down at their lap.   
“Though, I suppose it is my fault for not exactly being discreet with my joke journal.” She chuckled, drumming her fingernails against the window pane. The scenery went passed in a watercolor-like blur. “Would you like to hear some others? I have many more, if you couldn’t tell.” Frisk just stared down at their open palms, until giving another, small nod.  
…

Soon, the city streets began to become sparser, melting into a small suburban town. Charming, little houses sat in a row along the road, and the bus came to a tittering stop.   
“Come, my child, this is our stop.” Toriel stood up, tucking the “Joke journal” into her purse, and Frisk quickly followed suit.   
“Thank you!” Toriel said once again, as she exited the bus.   
“Tra la la. Listen to the flowers. Tra la la.” The bus driver sang. They were weird.  
Frisk stepped off the bus, almost tripping over the last step, and the doors shut behind them with an audible “Click!”.  
“I live just around the corner, at the end of the road.” Toriel began to walk forward slowly, and Frisk hurried to catch up. They were just thankful they didn’t have to hold her hand.   
The neighborhood was nice, albeit a bit generic. The city loomed behind them, closer than what Frisk had expected. The houses had thinned out quickly, but, that made sense. Monsters liked living in big groups, so it was weird for them to live far away from a city.   
The TV was droning on in the background as Frisk scribbled over the paper. Their dad sat at the same table as them, fingers moving ever so often to fix a stray piece of hair or move his drink to the other side of the table. The goofy characters on the kids menu were slowly and surely being filled with color by the waxy, free crayons offered to any young child in want of them. They were coloring a dog-ish creature in, giving him a shiny, blue coating of scraggly lines, and ignoring the documentary currently prattling on in the background.  
“...Monsters are a notoriously social species, often choosing to live in large groups in a relatively close proximity…”   
They heard their dad give a contemplative hum, before they felt fingers brush over their hair in a playful manner.  
“Watcha colorin’ there, Frisky?” He inquired in a warm, perky voice. “Makin’ another masterpiece?”   
Frisk laughed, pulling their menu up proudly to display it to their father. He took it, and looked at it with a contemplative hand on his chin.  
“Hmmm…” He tilted his head to and fro, making all sorts of noises and mutterings in a funny, comically pitched voice.   
“Well, I would say that this is…” He waited for a dramatic beat, watching as Frisk leaned forward so far in their seat they were in danger of falling off.  
“A BLUE DOG!” He exclaimed, and Frisk tittered wildly, only stopping when soft, warm hands gently grabbed their shoulders from behind with soft, round palms and chipped turquoise nails.  
“Is daddy being silly again?” She asked, petting the silky hair tufts on the toddler. They nodded, as the seat beside them was taken.  
The TV kept on going.

“We are here, my child.” Frisk was jerked out of their thoughts, and back into reality with a sharp jolt. One of their only childhood memories floated away in the wind, and they blinked a couple times to get the images out if their head.  
A small, caramel-colored house stood in front of them, petit and cozy and sturdy in a way that simply breathed of white picket fences and coming home to a peck and a hug and cookies fresh out of the oven. Frisk’s mouth opened in a little petit “O”.   
They dreamed of living in a place like this.   
It was something right out of a picture book, something from a vision that Frisk used to lull themselves to sleep.   
Toriel led them up the drive, Frisk looking around to drink in every single detail that their eyes could scavenge, from the greenness of the grass to the blooming golden flowers that looked like pure sunlight.   
Toriel put her key in the front door, causing Frisk’s attention to be drawn to her paws, carefully watching everything she did. She put the keys back in her purse with a careful flick of her wrist. They watched how Toriel conducted herself as she walked within the threshold, looking for any security systems or magic she disabled. Frisk didn’t really see… anything. The tension in Frisks shoulders relaxed. That was good. Easier for them to get out of, if necessary.   
Frisk paused right outside the doorway, breathing in deeply. Was this really worth it? Was it really?   
“Little one, are you coming?” Toriel looked back at them from around the left corner. Her eyes glistened with concern.   
They held their breath and took a step inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this chapter. It went though some MAJOR renovations. In fact, I had a drastically more dark flashback for Frisk in store, before scratching it for a much lighter one. Thanks again for reading!


	3. Point-blank Revelations

The house was just as pleasant and welcoming on the inside as it was on the outside, Frisk noticed with awe. The walls were a light shade of sweet honey tan, the paint neat and pristine. Frisk had the urge to tug their boots off in order to preserve the cleanliness of the wooden floor.

They swiveled their head around the premise. Too the right, there was a staircase. Frisk peaked up the stairwell, only to be greeted with only a softly lit ceiling in view. That’s probably where Toriel's bedroom was. 

They moved away from the stairs in the opposite direction, heading towards the left hallway.  
A waft of air brushed Frisk’s nose.  
Their mouth immediately begin to water. Holy cow, what was that? The smell was buttery, but so, so sweet. Their feet seemed to act by themselves, dragging Frisk towards to what was presumably the kitchen. Not that Frisk was complaining.

They entered a living room style-space, where a warm flame crackled in the fireplace a top blackened logs. A large sat chair sat by it, alight in a yellow glow. The chair was taller than Frisk was themself. It looked really comfy.   
They moved away to a small dining area, where a table presided over the corner. Three chairs accompanied it. How many people lived with Toriel? Was she a mom?  
She felt like a mom. Frisk could just picture it. Toriel standing proudly with a small, baby girl and a loving husband with his hands on her shoulders, taking a photo on the vibrant, green lawn of the house they had for years.   
They forcefully tore their eyes away from the dinner table, searching once again for the source of the harmonious odor. 

 

They walked through a large archway. Toriel was there, standing over the oven. She was humming slightly, her back turned to Frisk. She looked relaxed. A HUGE, browned pie sat on a cooling rack beside her. So THAT was the smell. Their stomach growled, and Frisk awkwardly stood there, shuffling their feet. What should they do? Pulling on her robe would be rude, but…  
“Oh!” Toriel turned, her dark burgundy eyes lighting upon Frisk’s face. Frisk looked down quickly, eyes focusing on their dirty boots in order to avoid her gaze.   
What did she want them to do?  
Toriel paused for a moment, causing Frisk's hair to stand on its end. Did she realize something? Something about them?  
“Would you like to take a shower while the pie cools? It probably won’t be ready for a while.” Toriel said in a soft, gentle tone.   
Frisk looked up suddenly, brows furrowed. Why did her tone change? It was sweet-tempered before, but it had dove down into a new territory of sympathy that Frisk… didn’t quite understand. What changed? What did it mean?   
“Follow me, little Frisk. I will lead you to the bathroom.” Toriel once again offered her hand, which they reluctantly took.   
They still didn’t want to take it.   
Frisk was slowly guided to the main landing and up the stairs, the floorboards creaking under every-other footstep. Large, echoing creaks for Toriel and smaller, almost silent ones for Frisk. The steps were big, but manageable for Frisk’s small stride. They repressed the urge to skip up the staircase.   
The upstairs was a the color of brown sugar, with the floor complementing it with caramel tones. The plush carpet kneaded itself between Frisk’s toes.   
“Here we are.” Toriel brought them down the long hallway, to the final door at the end, flicking the light switch on with an audible click!   
A huge, porcelain tub was there, merging into the wall, across from a sink an a ...toilet? hiding behind a half-wall.  
Didn’t monster eat magic food? So they didn’t-  
Toriel turned a knob on the bath. Water flooded from the nozzle to the white ceramic, littering it’s surface with sparkling droplets that soon turned to a layer of clear water.   
...they wanted to splash it.  
Soon the basin was full, and Toriel dipped her hand in. The fur puffed out like a cloud under the weightlessness of the water.   
“Ah, yes, the bath is ready.” Toriel met their eyes with a kind smile. Frisk dipped their head down.   
“Now, take your time, dear one. The soap in the purple bottle, the conditioner in the blue, and the shampoo in the red. Frisk stiffend. Toriel’s hand patted their head.   
“Enjoy your bath!” Her soft paw steps left the tiled room, leaving Frisk utterly alone.   
Frisk wrinkled their nose. They, oddly enough, didn’t liker her leaving them.   
An ache filled Frisks chest, and pinpricks stabbed their eyes.They breathed in shakily.   
Frisk shut the door quickly, locking it tight and enjoying the bite of the metal lock against their skin.   
…  
They listened for anything beyond the door, but all they could hear was sounds from the kitchen.  
Most likely Toriel, humming. They had to listen for the doorbell, or if anyone else came. They took a deep breath. No one would see them.   
They got all their clothes off quickly, waiting for the door to suddenly bust open and for them to be arrested or killed or… something. They left them unceremoniously on the floor in a dirt-covered lump. They wrinkled their nose at them. Should they wash them? No, it would be suspicious and uncomfortable if-  
Someone knocked on the door.  
They jumped away from it, pressing their back against the wall. It prickled uncomfortably against the puffy skin tissue.   
“Frisk? I forgot to ask you if you wanted me to wash your clothes.”  
Frisk stayed silent, breathing heavily.   
What should they do?   
They didn’t know what to do.   
They had no idea what-  
“Alright, if you change your mind, just slide your clothes under the door.” Frisk could hear Toriel move away from the door. They didn’t move until the heard her pad down the stairs. They closed their eyes, crossing their arms across their chest. They could feel their heart beating through their skin. It was ok. Everything is ok.   
Frisk collected them-self, separating their skin from the wall. It was ok. Toriel was...just being nice.   
...Right?   
They walked over to their clothes, separating the fluffy disguise from their regular outfit. They held onto the sweater, clutching it tightly. They held it against their chest. They didn’t want want to let it go. They rubbed their face on the dirty fabric, ignoring the rancid smell. The texture was soothing, and it just felt… safe.   
They didn’t want to give it to Toriel.   
But… they had to. They didn’t want her to get mad. She didn’t want to deal with a smelly kid, so she was going to wash their clothes. It made sense.   
They sighed, resigned, and shoved their shirt and pants under the door. It took some pushing, but they eventually managed to push it beneath the slim slot. They fiddled with their hands, which they then clamped to their sides.   
...  
It was time.  
…  
They shuffled over to the tub, and peaked over the side. It was tall enough that Frisk had to stand on their tip-toes to see in.   
How were they going to get in? They looked around for something to stand in, when they saw…  
Oh.   
A small, brightly colored-stool sat by the bath. It was covered with smiley-faced frogs from top to bottom.   
Toriel definitely had a kid.   
Frisk gently stepped on the stool, and vaulted them-self over the side.   
Their feet hit the bottom.  
They whimpered, immediately sinking into the water.   
This was complete bliss.   
They dunked themselves under the water, letting the warmth surround them. Their muscles relaxed.   
They wanted to stay in here forever.   
Frisk no idea how much time had passed until they decided to actually do something besides just soaking in the warmth. They sat up, wiping water away from their eyes and looked at the bottles that Toriel had mentioned.   
Soap, shampoo and… Conditioner?   
They pulled the bottle that was labelled “Soap” towards them (The rest of the bottle had the words “MTT Swanky Soap™ : For Skin and Scales! Printed on it. As Frisk looked at the other hygienic products, they realized they were all labeled in a similar fashion.) They poured it into their hands, and it came out as a foam with a light purple sheen.   
They scrubbed the foam onto their skin, rubbing it carefully around the more tender scars. It bubbled up when they splashed themselves with water, taking the dirt with it to a watery grave. Frisk giggled slightly, cupping the lavender bubbles in their hands. It smelled like lilacs. They held their nose and puffed up their cheeks, and dunked themselves under. The next thing they tried out was the… shampoo? No, the label said MTT Spectacular shampoo™. Frisk shrugged, dumping the sparkly rosy liquid out onto their palms. Were there supposed to be sequins in it? 

 

They spread it onto their hair, trying to cover it all with a thick layer. Soon, their hair was saturated in slime. They winkled their nose. It felt weird. They immediately scrubbed the shampoo out with water, ignoring how the bath seemed significantly less clean than before. That was ok. They dumped the conditioner onto their hair, this time just pouring it right out of the bottle and onto their scalp. They washed it out, giving it the same treatment that the shampoo suffered through. Right after they finished rinsing out the blueberry scented conditioner, Toriel's voice spoke through the door.   
“I finished your clothes! I will slide them through.” Frisk could hear the scraping noise of their sweater being shoved through the bottom, and a weight Frisk didn’t know they had finally was released from their shoulders. They had their sweater back. Frisk vaulted themselves out of the lukewarm water, and landed on their feet with a loud slapping sound. They pulled a towel from the rack. They were sopping wet, and droplets sprayed over the floor. They winced. They would clean it up later. They frantically pulled the striped sweater over their head, and breathed in the clean, fresh scent. It was still warm from the dryer. The water droplets on Frisks skin soaked through the cloth of Frisk’s sweater, but they didn’t really care. They pulled on their pants next, now fluffy and dry and clean. They felt like they were wrapped in a warm marshmallow. Frisk then started to pull on their disguise. 

They paused. If a monster took a bath, then their fur would have to be wet! They were so dumb! Frisk gathered up everything in their arms, and dropped it into the tub. They poured the shampoo on it and scrubbed them quick and hard. As soon as that was done, Frisk dragged them out and squeezed the water out of the brown fur. Good enough. Frisk pulled on all of their props, and stood. Bleaug! They made a disgusted, puckering face. Their boots felt nasty.

Frisk mopped up the mess they made with a towel, which they set on the side of the counter. After a few minutes of hemming, hawing, and wanting to stick out their tongue out in focus, they managed to figure out how to drain the tub. They surveyed their work with a small, satisfied smile and a pleased stance. It looked like Frisk had never been there. 

Frisk slowly unlocked the door, and crept into the hallway. Where was Toriel? Should they just go down to the kitchen? Or should they…  
Frisk looked around the hallway at the other doors that lined the hallway.   
No, no. They couldn’t snoop. They shouldn’t snoop. It was rude and bad. They were not allowed to snoop.   
But... this was different, right?   
This was about being safe, so...  
Frisk crept down the hall, careful to keep their footsteps light and indiscernible. They winced at every “squish” their damp shoes made. They hoped they weren’t leaving soggy footprints on the nice carpet.   
Finally, after what seemed to be eternity doubled upon itself, Frisk made it to the first available door. They looked back to the hallway, and tuned their ears. Frisk could hear Toriel softly singing as she cleaned the dishes down below. They took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

They were bathed in a sea of pastel cerulean the moment they stepped inside the bedroom. It was soft and light, and, at first glance, the only non-blue thing being the golden flowers that sat on the dresser. Frisk slowly padded in, caressing a fur covered finger against the desk. It seemed really… peaceful. It was probably Toriel's room. Frisk could just picture her loving such a gentle color and tenaciously painting the walls a shade`of creamy blue. Frisk looked down at the desk in front of them, and saw a journal sitting in front of them. They noticed, with a small gasp, it was the very same notebook Toriel was using earlier. Did Toriel put it in here when Frisk was taking a bath? Mmm, probably. 

Frisk read the bottom most entry, trying to discern if there was any change in content.   
“What did the fire magic say to the monster?”  
“Hearth-sta la vista!”   
Frisk giggled. Nope. It seemed this was just a joke journal. A Jokeournal.   
Frisk smiled in satisfaction at their own, albeit weak, pun.   
They pattered over to the dresser, and peaked inside, lifting themselves onto their tipee-toes  
Scandalous!  
Frisk snickered at the contents at the drawer. Socks. Frisk’s Aunt and Uncle always said that socks were pretty much underwear. Frisk had no idea why they said that. Why? They weren’t covering anything weird, were they?   
Frisk walked away from the drawer, and soon left the room, done with their excursion. They listened in the hallway for Toriel. They could feel more than hear her footsteps below them, walking away from the landing and into the living-area. Frisk tiptoed carefully down the hall to the final door. They quietly turned the knob of the door and quickly stepped into the room. They didn’t want to be too long and concern Toriel, or, even worse, cause her to check up on them.   
Frisk took in scope of the ruby-tinted room. This one felt very different from Toriel's, more playful and silly.   
A kid's room, Frisk realized.   
Frisk stared around the room in an awestruck wonder. A deep, strangling longing formed in their chest, a want so strong their breath shuddered and paused.   
A child's room.   
Frisk strode forwards, towards the bed. They laced their fingers around the bed frame. The dust on it stuck to their damp gloves like moss sticks to solemn gray stones.   
Dust…?  
Frisk brushed this detail off, choosing instead to move onto another part of their fantasy (memory?) made real.   
Toys.   
Frisk hadn’t had many toys since their father and them went on the run. Rag-dolls and old, rusted hand-me downs were the most luxurious form of entertainment from Frisk’s childhood after age three? Four? Two? They were a little fuzzy on the details. But that didn’t matter right now. They scooped up a stuffed animal (A cat, by the looks of it) and cuddled it close to their chest.   
How lucky her child must be.   
They walked over to the closet, plush still in hand, and gently pulled it open. 

...The dust was really bothering them. 

They marveled at the colorful, beautiful clothes in the closet. Everything was in its proper place, neat and tidy.  
But…  
The garments looked like they hadn’t been used in months, at the very least. Frisk’s brow furrowed, and they looked down at the toy in their hand. As they peeled it away from its place against their chest, They saw an imprint of the white-gray substance against their still damp shirt.   
...  
The thrill of finding this picture-perfect place faded, leaving cold dread in its wake.   
They began to look more closely at the details.   
For one, there was dust coating along the surface of everything. Not the dust of monsters, Frisk would be able to tell if it was, but just regular, old, dust. Over the closet, the perfectly-made bed, the dress of drawers-  
Frisk took a double take at the drawers, whipping their head around to stare.   
The handles on the lowest drawer had dust-free hand prints pressed into the grain. Frisk walked towards it, leaning down to open the the it when-

C L A N K

A loud noise echoed from down below and Frisk froze, every muscle burning to a stop.   
…  
…  
…  
Silence.

Frisk let out a shuddering sigh. Their heart was beating out of their chest, and it was so loud they worried that Toriel could hear it from all the way downstairs.   
They really didn’t want to get caught…  
But the curiosity and the foreboding feeling taking root in their core wouldn’t allow them to walk away.   
Frisk gripped the wood in their hands, ignoring how wrong this felt. Toriel wouldn’t find out, and, if she did, Frisk could always run away.   
They needed to see if they were in danger.   
Frisk, without further ado, yanked open the drawer.   
And took a double take as to what they saw.   
In the dainty drawer sat… things.   
Frisk pulled out the thing on the top of the pile, bringing it close to their face to examine it. It was a faded red ribbon, tied up into a pretty bow. Nothing struck Frisk as out of the ordinary about this item, aside from it’s worn nature. The shrugged it off and put it aside.   
The next thing in the box was…   
Frisk shivered.   
A plastic knife.   
Frisk put that one aside quickly, setting it on the ground far, far away from them. Their dad had never let them use knives, and certainly not their mom. They would end up hurting them self. Then, they thought better of it. What if they needed to protect themselves? They mulled it over in their head. Should they take it? Toriel had been really kind to them so far. Then again, if she knew Frisk was human, that would undoubtedly change. She would try to kill them on the spot. They deflated a bit at this notion, which they quickly ignored. No need to get attached. They were lonely before, they could do it again.   
They slipped the knife into the side of their waistband.   
Frisk moved on to the rest of the items. They seemed to be in random order, moved around randomly and disorganized. Frisk found in the drawer a cowboy hat, a weathered notebook, a frying pan (what was that doing there?), and many other objects, all the while listening to any form of sound from down below.   
Frisk quickly moved aside the last few things to find out what was on the bottom of the drawer.   
They found, well, the bottom of the drawer.   
Frisk slumped back onto their backside, disappointment numbing their bones.   
That was it?   
That couldn’t be it.   
Frisk examined the drawer, running over everything in their head.   
That couldn’t be it! Why was this the only thing that had been touched recently?   
Frisk gritted their teeth, defeated.   
This was stupid. It was such a stupid idea! Of course there was nothing there! They were assuming things again. They began to pick up the objects again and load them in. They were just to young and dumb to do this. Dumb, stupid stupid-!  
Frisk’s fingers brushed something that caught their attention.   
As Frisk had set down a torn notebook, they had touched the bottom of the drawer. But, as Frisk looked closer, leaning their face all the way down so that their mask was inches away from the bottom, they realized what they had noticed. Two small indents sat, carved into the wood. They were small semi-circles.   
Juuuuust big enough for one of Frisk’s small, childish fingers to fit into.   
Frisk felt a nervous excitement bubble in their chest, both anxious and triumphant.  
They stuck their phalanges in the carvings, and lifted upward, bringing the entire bottom of the drawer with it.   
The objects they had put on it slid to the ground, discarded as they looked underneath.   
What…?  
Costumes?  
Sure enough, makeup, masks, and other articles of a similar caliber were neatly stacked in it. Frisk was… confused. What did this mean? Frisk dug through the pile, moving things aside. Fake fangs, furry clip-in ears, colored contacts-  
Why would Toriel need these?   
And why did she hide them?   
Frisk burrowed into the very bottom, moving things aside and out and back in and generally making a mess of everything.   
Until something caught their attention.   
It was a small photo book, with a flower insignia on the outside. Frisk looked back at the door once, before opening it gently to somewhere in the middle. Their hands hummed in anticipation.  
But what they saw made their blood run cold.   
Inside was Toriel with… kids.   
Kids like them.   
They were disguised, but Frisk could recognize them clearly.   
Button noses, a splotch of hair on the top of their heads, and thin, five-fingered hands.   
Frisk dropped the book from their lap, standing up suddenly.   
They needed to get out of here.   
Their breathing picked up. It felt like they were in a daze, but fear pricked them into action.   
They needed to go now.  
They ran to the door, tearing their way down the hall.   
They needed to go they needed to go they needed to g they needed to go-!  
“My child?”   
Toriel stood at the bottom of the stairs, suddenly appearing right as Frisk frantically jumped off the final one. Her hands hiked up her robes to allow her to run.   
She must of heard them.   
“Is everything alright?”   
Frisk stared, eyes wide.   
They didn’t know what to do.   
Their waistband felt heavy.   
Frisk ripped the faux knife from its resting place, pointing it at Toriel.   
Their hands shook so violently, they had to grip the handle with white-tipped knuckles just to keep it from dropping from their fingers.   
Toriel stepped back, eyes wide.   
She raised her hands.  
Frisk flinched, taking a step backwards, waiting for magic to burst forth.   
A strangled, warped sound escaped Frisk’s mouth. It sounded like words, like an accusation.   
For a moment, they forgot they couldn’t speak.   
“Please... I can explain, I swear.”   
Their feet were rooted in place.   
“Frisk… please, calm down. You are not in any danger.”   
Her body was blocking the door.   
She seemed to follow Frisk’s line of sight, glancing to the escape.   
Then, she did something that really, really surprised Frisk.   
She lowered her hands and knelt.   
“I am not going to hurt you. I know whatever you saw appeared incriminating, but…” Her eyes plead with Frisk.  
“I promise, no one will harm you here!”  
Frisk didn’t believe her.   
But… she seemed so sincere.  
“I know you are... human.”   
Before Frisk could even react, Toriel began again.   
“And you are not the only human I have encountered before.”  
Toriel held their frantic, tear-dotted eyes.  
“But I am trying to protect them! I am trying to protect you!”  
One breath. Then two.  
“I know you shouldn’t believe me, but I am speaking the truth, child. I have not harmed you, have I?”  
A trick. It had to be a trick.   
But that didn’t make sense.   
“If I had really wished you harm, I would of left you to the police. I am only trying to aid you, young one!”   
The knife wavered even more in their hands.   
No. She was probably a psychopath. She wanted to hurt them.   
She had too.   
“If I wished to...kill you.” Toriel spat the word out like it tasted like acid. “I would not have let you take a bath, or offered you pie, or even washed your clothes. Would I really have done that if my intentions were not good?”   
They bit the inside of their cheek.   
Would she have been that nice if she was determined to hurt them?  
They shook their head firmly.   
Yes, yes she would have.   
“If I wished you harm, would I have not harmed you the moment I realized you knew? Would I not be angry?”   
Doubt flickered in their chest.   
None of this made sense.   
Frisk wanted to leave, to run away.   
Their breath hitched in their throat, and they ignored the moisture dotting their cheeks.   
But where could they run?  
...   
Frisk didn’t have anywhere to go.  
Would it really matter that much if they were to be taken?   
“Please, just listen. Just…” Toriel looked strained, yet pleading.   
“Let us eat some pie, and I will explain everything. I promise.”  
She seemed really, really sincere.   
(She was acting like their mom when they were upset.)  
But she couldn’t be… be not lying.  
Right?  
…  
Maybe… maybe...they should hear her out.   
It wasn’t like they had a choice.   
“You can keep your weapon child. If I try anything, you are free to attack.”  
…  
Their heartbeat still beat erratically in their chest.   
But…  
What if she's being truthful?   
They, really, really needed to know.   
Slowly, they nodded, aiming their knife away from her neck.   
Toriel smiled gently at them, relieved, and slowly, but surely, began to stand up.   
It looked like she was deliberately being obvious with her movements, and even kept her shoulders hunched to make herself look smaller. She gave Frisk a patient smile.   
“Please, follow me, my child. You will be safe here.”   
Toriel began to walk slowly to the kitchen, checking behind her often.   
Frisk took a deep breath, trying to steady themselves. Steel themselves.   
They took a step forward and followed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF
> 
> Umm... surprise?


	4. Two Distinct Perspectives

Frisk swung their legs under the table, beating the air senseless with their heels as they anxiously waited. They could see Toriel easily from the table as she put steaming pie on white porcelin. She looked over her shoulder at them frequently. 

Frisk avoided her gaze. 

Soon, her padded feet crossed the floor and an eggshell plate was set in front of Frisk.   
The pie was a lovely brown, flecked in places with cinnamon and brown sugar. A curl of whipped cream crowned the top, complementing the darker colors of the delicacy.   
Frisks mouth watered, instincts shouting at them to shive the entire slice into their mouth.   
They wanted it so bad.  
But, they waited.   
Toriel took a seat across from them. They could hear her gently move the chair aside and settling down, her slice of pie just as nice looking as Frisk’s.   
They waited, each passing of a secound torture.  
“My child, you can eat if you are hungry.”   
Frisk looked up, but the moment they saw Toriel’s crimson eyes, they cast their gaze downward. Frisk quickly signed a sloppy thank you, and desperatley reached for a fork, stomach growling in want.   
What if it was poisoned?   
The thought crossed Frisk’s mind suddenly, making them hesitate, their hand still outstretched.   
Was this all a hoax?   
Frisk must have been frozen for longer than they thought, because Toriel quickly attempted to put their fears to rest.  
“Is everything alright, tiny one?”   
Frisk raised their hands, biting the inside of their cheek. They quickly spat out a message.   
“Is the pie poisoned?”   
Toriel paused for a thick, naseouse moment, before reaching out. Frisk flinched back against the chair, vision snapping upward, but Toriel simply dragged Frisks plate towards her and quickly took a bite.   
Frisk watched her chew and swallow, the return the pie with a patient grin.   
Frisk sighed, lungs deflating, and dug into the pie with a barely restrained hunger.   
It tasted like ambrosia from Mt.Olympus to Frisk’s culinarily-impaired taste buds.   
The pie was gone in a few minutes, which had lapsed into stilling silence as Frisk scarfed it down.   
Toriel stayed quiet, but never hostile or cold. She was calm and foreboding, but a warm presence.   
The moment the plate was empty, Toriel swooped in and retrieved another piece from the kitchen, this one slightly bigger.   
“So, you would like an explanation, correct?” Frisk was still chewing fast, but slightly slower this time, savoring the flavor. The pie was colder now, lukewarm on their tongue. They nodded slowly.   
“Where would you like me to start, my dear?”   
Frisk considered this a moment, tilting their head slightly.   
“The beginning.”   
Toriel brought one of her paws off the table and onto her snout in a thinking-like motion. Her nail tapped against her nose lightly.   
“Hmmm…  
Long ago, two races lived over the Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS.”   
Frisk screwed up their face underneath their mask. When they said the beginning, this wasn’t quite what they intended.   
“Oh! That wasn’t what you meant, was it?”   
Frisk was beginning to think Toriel was a mind reader. They really, really hoped not.   
“Well…” Toriel began slowly, carefully, as if taking her time in order to organize her sentences. “Ever since the Kingdom of Monsters declared victory over humankind, I have served the role of the caretaker of human refugees. I pass through the city every day to see if any humans are in need.”  
Frisk’s eyes widened owlishly.   
Refugees…?  
“If I ever come across some poor child, I bring them to my home and attempt to help them find their families.”  
Find their… families?  
“Of course, there are always setbacks. It often takes a long time for me to locate their families. The longest time was my dear Patricia. It took an entire year in order to find her mom.”

They put their fork down. It didn’t look so appetizing anymore.

“But, that is besides the point, young one.” Toriel’s voice was kind and coaxing, as if she was trying to encourage a snail out of its shell. “What matters right now is that you are safe and sound. There is no need to be afraid, child. “  
Frisk let out a shuddering breath, one which they hadn’t even been aware that they were holding.   
Should they trust her?  
Frisk’s legs were still pumping under the table, the short limbs kicking wildly.   
Frisk, despite themself, felt themselves wanting to trust her, just a little. They wanted to stay here at this place that was straight from the depths of their childish imagination and enjoy baths and food like they used too. They wanted to grasp a stuffed animal and fall asleep and have Toriel find their family.   
But…  
They didn’t have one.   
What would Toriel do if she found that out?  
At the same time as their desire, they felt fear. This went against everything that they had been told. She seemed so... sincere. In the pictures that Frisk had seen, the kids did seem happy. They didn’t seem scared or sad.  
Frisk wanted that happiness.   
Although… even if Frisk decided to put faith in Toriel, the tiniest bit of faith…  
Could they really live with a monster?   
Monsters had killed their entire race. Monsters had taken all of their family away from them. Monsters had magic that… that…

They whimpered slightly in their throat. It hurt to even look at Toriel, the terror clawing their insides inside out. The only way they could stop that was if they closed their eyes and pretended she wasn’t a monster. Frisk was good at pretending, so, it was easy.   
…  
Kind of.   
Frisk clenched their arms, debating sharply in their head.   
They hated.... No, hate wasn’t the right word. Hate suggested that Frisk wanted them all to suffer. Frisk couldn’t wish that on anyone, no matter how hard they tried.   
No, They were horrified of monsters.   
They didn’t want to stay with a monster.   
But they wanted all that came with it.   
They needed all that came with it.   
They didn’t know how much longer they could last on the streets. The policemen were scary, and they made Frisk want to cry, and it was like more of them were there and patrolling more often.   
They were hungry all the time. They were cold all the time. They were exhausted all the time.   
And everyday made Frisk want to meltdown and cry and scream and break things and yell for their mom.

Frisk didn’t want to do it anymore.   
They refused to do it anymore! 

...  
So, it was decided.   
All of the emotions that had been surging through Frisk’s system died out, releasing their grip on their body. They slumped over.   
They had decided.   
But first, Frisk had a question.  
Frisk raised their hands up, trying to steady their tiny fingers. They were trembling.   
Frisk didn’t want to be scared anymore.   
“Why?”   
Frisk needed to know.   
“You would like to know why, my child?”   
Frisk nodded.   
“Well… It is a culmination of many things. For one, I do not believe that killing humans senselessly is going to solve anything, and I believe it is a cruel and savage decree.” A venom that Frisk had not heard yet from the goat-woman entered her voice. Frisk breath quickened slightly. Their hands jerked down, gaze looking anywhere but her face. Was she angry at them? Did they make the right choice? 

“But, another reason is that, before battle riddled the land, I had a human child.” 

Frisk’s head snapped up. 

“Their name…” She paused, eyes soft. “Was Chara. My dear Chara.” Toriel's voice was thick and slow with emotion, and yet, she spoke the name with an utmost tenderness.  
“I loved them as my own, because in all but blood they were. Now… because of them… I don’t think that I could ever turn away a child from my home without an attempt to help them.”   
The weight of the air after this conversation seemed to way heavily on Frisk’s shoulders, pushing the breath out of their lungs. They didn’t mean to make Torie sad. Would she be mad at them for it?  
“Sorry.”  
“There is no need to be sorry, innocent one. You have a right to those questions. Now that is over with-” Toriel stood up, and Frisk’s eyes adjusted to block any trace of her out of their vision.  
“Would you like to sleep? It was been a long day, and you look quite tired.” Toriel chuckled lightly.   
Frisk paused, then nodded carefully. Sleep sounded absolutely wonderful. Actually, a bed in general sounded amazing in itself.   
Toriel giggled again, and she shifted in Frisk’s peripheral vision. As she came closer, the hairs on the back of their neck stood up.   
“Come, let me lead you to your room. Even though you have already been there, I would still like to show you and tuck you in for the night.”  
Their room.   
Their very own room!   
Despite the ever-gnawing terror, excitement bubbled in their stomach. The only time they had their own room when they were a baby!   
Frisk felt… better about this arrangement. 

Relief.  
________

 

Toriel left them to their own devices in order to change into pajamas. As Frisk pulled on the soft cotton, they savored how the soft material felt against their skin, light and relieving. It was green and yellow, nice and pleasant.   
Despite that, Frisk still felt naked without their disguise.  
They couldn’t even completely part with it. The purple and blue sweater was crumpled in Frisks lap, hidden under the covers. They made sure it was always touching their skin in one way or another.   
Their hair was fluffy and curly from the bath. It reminded Frisk of a baby bird’s downy feathers as they played with it. They giggled at how it bounced as they combed their fingers through the rat’s nest, ignoring the sting of removing the tangles. It was so fluffy!  
For the night, they had selected the familiar stuffed cat. It was nestled close to their chest, cradled in the crook of their left arm. In their head, they had already dubbed it “Catrina”.

Toriel would’ve liked that name, but Frisk tried not to think about that.  
They kissed Catrina’s button nose and stroked her velvet ears. She smelled good, but musty, like lavender laundry detergent that had been spilled in a muggy cupboard and never quite got completely cleaned up.   
Frisk yawned loudly, and stretched. Their joints popped loudly and their sleeves slipped down. Frisk frowned at this, and tugged the sleeves back up. They didn’t like how loose the fabric was around their form. This was the most baggy and cushioned pajama set that Frisk could find, and yet it still didn’t completely hide their figure.  
But it was the best they could do.  
Frisk rubbed their eyes.  
Exhaustion was setting in, despite it only being around one or two in the afternoon at the latest. It had been a long day, and Frisk hadn’t slept well for months, at the very least.   
They sat awkwardly on the bed, trying not to disturb anything. Toriel did say that the room was technically theirs, but…  
Was it really?   
A bunch of other children had stayed there, and it’s possible that Toriel didn’t want them to screw everything up. 

Frisk stared at the smiling cat in their arms, before racing over to the toy chest and placing it inside. They tried to fix it’s position, trying to make it seem like Frisk hadn’t even touched it.   
They had gotten off easy with going through the drawer, they did not want to tempt fate yet again.   
They sat back and sighed, their alarm and adrenaline fading.   
Would Toriel like them tell them they were going to bed?   
Or would she just be bothered by them?   
It was probably the latter.   
Frisk could never really tell with people. Toriel seemed calm for now, but that could change. That was going to change. They needed to quickly figure out how to keep Toriel calm and placid. Honestly, Frisk was not looking forward to the first time Toriel was going to get angry. She seemed… much nicer than the monsters from before.  
(They shivered. They didn’t want to think about that now.)  
But if Frisk got to live in a house again, it was worth it.   
Frisk stood before the door, hand outstretched. What was the right decision?   
They desperately didn’t want to see Toriel again.   
(They still didn’t trust her that much.)  
(But what did they have to lose?)  
They lowered their hand from it’s position, walked over to the lamp. They pulled the string and plunged them into darkness. 

________

Toriel was getting anxious.   
After going into their room, Frisk had yet to come out. Toriel didn’t want to invade their privacy but…  
Toriel stood up from her chair, and made her way to Frisk’s bedroom.  
She knocked on the door softly, noticing how the light was dark underneath the door.   
“My child?”   
But nobody came.   
Toriel tried to bite down on the worry on the tip of her tongue. They probably just fell asleep. That’s all.   
She softly opened the door, cringing at the creek that the hinges decided to produce.   
Frisk was laying on top of sheets on their bed, curled up into a small ball. Relief flooded Toriel's conscious, and she let out a small chuckle. They were so very adorable. Toriel carefully padded over to Frisk and very gently lifted them up, making sure to gently coddle their form.

She frowned, almost gasping in shock.   
They were so very light. 

Toriel could swear she felt the child's ribs, but in the dark it was not easy to tell.   
She moved the sheets aside, and carefully set Frisk down. Why hadn’t they gotten under the covers?   
Ignoring this question, she tucked the sheets around them snugly, and Frisk made a small, happy noise in their sleep.   
They tucked their knees up against themself once again, curling so only the top of their fluffy head was visible. Toriel couldn’t help but smile at this despite the foreboding pit that had opened in her stomach. She leaned down, and gently kissed the top of their head, and quietly left the room.

She was going help this child, no matter what.


End file.
